Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Holt
“What in the hell took you so long?” Oliver hits the gas, barely giving me enough time to shut the door to his sport utility vehicle.
“Delayed flight.”
My briefcase sails across the floorboard in the back, ramming the door behind my brother, as he takes a tight right turn onto the freeway.
“You know, we could always buy a private jet.” He looks at me like he just proved a point he’s struggled to make for years.
As the president of Mason Ltd., I control the purse strings and major financial decisions. I remind him of this with a simple quirk of a brow.
He scoffs. “We’re going to be late to our meeting with Graham Landry.”
“And what the fuck should I have done about it? Explained to the weather gods in Portland my little brother needed me for a business meeting and the storm should just vanish because I said so?”
He’s not entertained. With a roll of his eyes, he sits back in the leather seat and hits cruise control on the steering wheel.
“And stop fucking calling me every twenty seconds and handle shit like a big boy,” I add for good measure.
“Really, Holt?”
We watch each other, a heated standoff like only brothers who run a multi-million-dollar company together can manage.
We’re both type A, intelligent, and damn good at what we do.
This causes a few skirmishes, but we are also loyal.
To a fault. And that’s what makes our bond stronger than any other in the business and why Mason Ltd. kicks ass.
The ringing of Oliver’s phone through the car breaks our stalemate. Oliver answers. “Oliver Mason.”
“It’s Rosie.”
“How are you, Rosie?” I ask our shared assistant.
She’s seventy-five years old and still good at old-fashioned typed things.
Neither Oliver nor I can let her go, despite having to hire separate assistants to help pick up the slack.
Our brother, Wade, was going to hire her in his architectural office because it’s more low-key, but when Oliver brought it up to her, she looked hurt.
So, we pretended there was a big fight over her.
She was happy again, and we just made do.
“Is that you, Holton?” she asks.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ve made your brother extremely nervous today. I’ve warned the Landrys you’re running late. Told them you had a weather delay.”
I grin at Oliver as he shakes his head. “You’re right. It was the weather.”
“Of course, it was, dear. I shall ignore any strange credit card charges from the past couple of hours when your bill hits my desk.”
“That would be awfully kind of you, Rosie.”
Oliver butts in, going over a few things with her while I gaze out the window and try to quiet my head. Meeting with Graham Landry is no joke. The man is a powerhouse all on his own—quick-witted, smart as hell, and cutthroat. If you aren’t on top of your game, you’re out of play.
We pause at a traffic light and wait as the cars in the opposite lanes barrel across the intersection. Oliver ends the call with Rosie. I’m about to ask him how far away from the meeting we are when a pedestrian with long, dark hair crosses in front of us.
Unlatching my seat belt, I rise in my seat to get a better look. Oliver’s eyes are on me as I try to ascertain whether this is the girl from the airport, but I ignore him. Instead, I watch the sway of her hips back and forth and determine, without a doubt, it’s not her.
I sink back into the seat just before Oliver slams the gas again.
“Wanna tell me what that was about?” he asks.
“Not really.”
“Does it have anything to do with why you were super fucking late?”
“I wasn’t that late,” I contend. “Just shut the hell up about it.”
“Fine, fine. Just be ready for Landry. He knows how much we stand to make if we purchase this property from him, so he’s not going to give it to us easily.”
I look at Oliver and laugh. “Does he ever?”
“Maybe he’ll be nice and use some lube.”
“Let’s hope he remembers how much Dad donated to the Landry mayoral campaign a few years back. Maybe that’ll help.”
He takes a right off the freeway and heads to the outskirts of Savannah where the Landrys’ estate is located.
I’ve been there a few times for random events and meetings, and it’s nice as hell.
I keep telling my brothers we need something like that, but our personalities are too different to agree on anything.
We just meet in Aspen and go skiing every winter instead.
As the car pulls up to the gate, a man takes Oliver’s information and buzzes us through. We slip by tall rows of trees along the freshly paved path leading to the massive farmhouse nestled back away from the road. Oliver parks the car and looks at me.
“You ready, big guy?” he asks.
“Let’s do this.”
Blaire
A lot of assumptions are made on first appearances, so for that reason, I strive never to be underdressed for an occasion. Yet as I walk up the steps to the large farmhouse at the address given to me by my brother, I feel totally unprepared.
A flowy, pale yellow sundress hangs from my shoulders and hides the sandals on my feet. It seemed like the perfect easy ensemble to do a little shopping on the quaint little street beside my condo, and I didn’t see the need to change before picking up some papers for Sienna.
I was wrong.
This place is gorgeous and elegant and oh, so Southern. As I knock on the door and wait for someone, presumably a butler, to open the door, I wish to heaven I’d have worn something slightly more professional.
Footsteps sound from the other side before the door is whisked open by a man standing in a pair of dark dress pants and a blue and white checkered shirt. He’s divine with his freshly cut dark hair and clean-shaven face.
“You must be Blaire Gibson?” he asks.
“Yes, I am.”
A smile stretches across his cheeks. “I’m Graham Landry. Nice to meet you.” He extends a hand as he steps out of my way so I can enter.
We shake quickly, his palm heavy and strong, then he leads me into the back of the house. I can hear laughter coming from a room in front of us as Graham turns toward me.
“I’m winding up a business meeting,” he says. “It would’ve been over, actually, had my brother Lincoln not shown up.”
As the laughter grows again, I laugh too. “I have a brother like that.”
“So you feel my pain. On a serious note, Sienna has told me a lot about you. I wanted to thank your family for taking her in the way you have.”
We stop just short of the doorway.
“She’s so good for my brother. He’s smitten with her,” I say.
“I think she’s in about the same shape.” He grins. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Linc while I grab the papers you’re after.”
He enters the room in front of me and makes his way toward a chair at the head of the table. I, on the other hand, stutter step.
Sitting in front of me is a man in a tailored suit. A Rolex sits on his wrist. A hand runs through his sandy brown hair as he turns my way.
“And then he …” Holt’s voice trails off as our eyes meet somewhere over the fancy hardwood floor. He leans back as though he can’t quite focus. “Didn’t I …?”
Recovering more quickly than I anticipate, I paste on a practiced smile. “It’s good to see you again,” I say to him.
He looks at Graham before switching his eyes to me again. “You too.” It’s more of a stammer, a caught-off-guard statement than anything. “Do you know the Landrys?”
“I’m just here to pick up a few papers.”
The gazes from around the room are heavy, heating the air even more than the exchange of energy between Holt and me. The slight drop of his jaw and his furrowed brow are slowly replaced with a twitch of his lip and oh, so narrowed eyes that are enough to make me want to back out of the room slowly.
“Is this why you were late today?” A man across from him sighs. He looks like Holt with lighter hair and darker eyes.
Holt responds, bickering back and forth with the man across the table about minding his own business while I take in the men around me. Graham is ignoring them all as he sorts through a stack of papers. A younger version of Graham sits next to him with a wicked grin on his face.
“Lincoln Landry,” he says with a little wave. “Nice to meet ya. You must be Blaire.”
“Yes. Nice to meet you too.”
“Here they are,” Graham mutters, pulling out an envelope and handing it to me. “I put everything she needs in there. If she’s missing something, she can call.”
“Great. I’ll make sure she gets them,” I say, taking the envelope.
“We’d love to have dinner with you this week,” Lincoln says. “Mom would love to meet you.”
“I need to check my schedule,” I say, reverting to my new go-to line. “I’ll get in touch if I can work it out.”
Holt’s chair scoots back in front of me, and he gets to his feet. “I’ll walk you out.”
“I can do it,” Graham offers.
“Clearly, he doesn’t want you to do it, asshole,” Lincoln says to his brother. “Sit down and pretend you can see what’s happening here.”
My cheeks warm. I look between the Landry men. “Nice to meet you both. And you too …” I say, pulling my gaze to the other man.
He stands. “Oliver Mason. Holt’s brother.”
“Nice to meet you, Oliver.”
“Likewise.” He tucks his tie beneath his jacket as he takes his seat again. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”
My first reaction is to tell him not to sound so excited about the prospect. My second thought is to ask him what makes him think we’ll ever see each other again. Instead, I catch myself and give him a tight grin instead.
“Have a good evening,” I say and turn toward the front door.
Holt’s energy ripples behind me, the musk of his cologne filling my nostrils as I reach the exit. He hops in front of me and opens it before I can get to it.
“Thank you,” I offer as I step onto the expansive front porch complete with hanging ferns. Breathing in the cut grass and coolness to the evening air, I look up at the colorful sky. “It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t notice until now.”